A Wonderful Life
by girl from the lake cottage
Summary: Christmastime on the Bus. Fitzsimmons holiday shenanigans everywhere... And maybe love? (Note: I've been fixing some typos, but a new chapter should be coming soon because Fitzsimmons pranks and closets!)
1. Wonderful

Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons had their own Christmas traditions. Best friends tend to settle into patterns, especially after surviving graduate school, dual PhDs, and the Academy. At least that was the reason they gave for baking cookies in the middle of the night, preparing to watch the Doctor Who Christmas Special while drinking peppermint hot chocolates, and decorating every open surface with tinsel and lights.

"Being stuck on the Bus over the holidays is not going to stop us from celebrating," Simmons explained to the team when they were told they were not going to be able to be with their families for Christmas.

Skye had rolled her eyes the first time she saw the two unpacking a box, unraveling tangled strands of lights and throwing glittery handfuls of pretend snow at each other.

"Really," she mock-whispered to Coulson and May later that afternoon, "you'd think they were ten years old."

"When they were ten," Coulson laughed, "they were probably taking their first analytical chemistry course. This is just a reversion to the childhood they never had." He shook his head, smiling. "And don't tell me that you hate the fact that they've made twelve different kinds of baked goods in the past week."

May and Skye exchanged a look before breaking into laughter. "You're right," May agreed. "even if my REM cycle is thrown off every time Fitz drops a hot pan on the kitchen floor."

Ward nearly said something the time he found a stocking with his name on it hanging up in the interrogation room. And when he found a crèche displayed across Lola's dash, Coulson almost rethought his prior lenience about kitchen hours.

However, like everything they created in the lab, the holiday escapades of Fitz and Simmons were a force to be reckoned with. A real Christmas tree, insisted upon by Simmons, was put up in the passenger lounge. Fitz kept hacking into the broadcasting system to play carols on every loudspeaker. The entire team was wrangled into a Secret Santa gift exchange.

"What's so secret about giving presents when there are only six of us?" Ward asked Skye after he received his fifth Captain America action figure. Obviously Coulson.

"It's not _about_ the secret," she insisted with a grin. He didn't know she had five more Captains for him. "It's about the _giving_. Plus, Simmons and Fitz would probably do something even more drastic if we didn't give into their fun. Like make it actually start snowing in our pods or something." She shivered. "It's already cold enough on the Bus, so we don't need to give them any ideas."

On Christmas Eve, after having a dinner that Fitz had deemed _almost_ comparable to his mother's cooking, May peeked into the passenger lounge to see Fitz and Simmons stretched out on the couch, watching _It's a Wonderful Life_. They had turned off all of the lights but those on the Christmas tree. She closed the door quietly on the pair before heading off to pour herself a glass of eggnog, humming "Silent Night".

Fitz had his arms wrapped around Simmons in what seemed to be a platonic hug. Her fingers were fiddling with the bottom hem of his sweater. They were giggling at the swimming pool scene, a soaking Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed flailing onscreen.

"Remind me again why we've watched this movie every year since we met?" Fitz asked Simmons, his hands coming up to still hers. It was not going to be platonic much longer if she kept that up. "This is, what? The seventh time? Jemma, really. Are you ever going to want to switch over to "White Christmas", or even something more…" he trailed off, laughing. "British?"

She turned towards him, eyes reflecting the lights of the tree. "That's what the Doctor is for, silly. Besides, Fitz, we watched _Narnia_ just last week." She shook her head, nose crinkling. "Nope. Jimmy is dreamy, and I know you, Mr. I-Have-Old-Fashioned-Ideals, don't mind Donna. Plus, George and Mary Bailey are Christmas Eve-only kind of people."

His arms tightened around her. On the television, George was insisting, _I don't want any plastics, and I don't want any ground floors, and I don't want to get married - ever - to anyone! You understand that?_

"Jemma?" he asked softly. The Christmas lights were flickering shadows across her hair. "I…"

She gently hit his arm. "Shh. Wait till this part is over." She snuggled back into his chest, making his breath catch.

He waited until after the giving-up-the-honeymoon scene before sitting up slightly, forcing Simmons to slide off his lap onto the couch. She gave a little frown, but he tapped her on the cheek to make her smile. "It's Christmas, Jemma. No sad faces."

She hit him on the arm again. "But I was comfortable, Fitz." She left her hand resting on his wrist and could feel his pulse through the wool of his sweater. Her thumb smoothed against the soft cuff of the sleeve.

He cleared his throat. "Me – me too." He met her eyes, which looked a little alarmed. He placed his other hand on top of the one that was fiddling with his sleeve and twisted his fingers through hers. "Jemma."

"Leo?" Now she was looking _very_ alarmed. She only used his first name when she was worried. George Bailey, begging for a loan, had been forgotten.

"I…" He stopped. Leo had thought about this moment. Over and over, he had pictured it in his mind. Each and every morning, when she brought him coffee in his favorite mug and she sat next to him in the lab, sipping her tea. When he was sure she was going to die. When she didn't. Telling Jemma that really he just wanted to pull her into his arms each and every Christmas for the rest of their lives.

She looked down at their interlocked fingers, and looked back up, but not quite into his eyes. Her free hand trailed up towards the collar of the button-up peeking over the top of his sweater. She smoothed it, gently.

"Leo, don't you know _why _I always watch this movie with you at Christmas?" she whispered, her eyes finally meeting his. His hand tensed around hers.

"You've never explained…" He trailed off. Sentences were difficult for him at the moment.

She let out a small breath. Someone had turned Christmas music on the speaker system again, and it was overlapping with the movie dialogue. But all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

"Because you're _my _Christmas Eve person," she said softly, so softly he had to pull her a little closer to hear the words. "But not just on Christmas. You've been beside me the…" Her voice caught in a sob, but he knew what she meant to say.

"The whole damn time," he finished for her, just before he pulled her the final few inches, back into his arms. "You've been beside me the whole damn time."

He kissed her. His lab partner, his best friend. Leo Fitz knew that for the rest of their lives he would make sure Jemma Simmons knew just what a wonderful life she helped him to have.


	2. Always

Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons started packing up all of the decorations they had scattered around the Bus on February 6th, which they had determined was the official end of Christmas.

"_Finally_," Ward said to Coulson. The two men were standing outside the door of the interrogation room, where Ward's stocking had mysteriously disappeared from the wall. "I was beginning to think that we'd be stuck in a perpetual state of peppermint and snowflakes. If I hear one more version of "O Holy Night" I will start punching Fitz. Repeatedly."

"Me too," said Skye as she walked down the hall carrying a cardboard box of holly and ivy. "And I don't even _like_ punching people." She raised her eyebrows at Ward before looking down at the box. "Where do you think this should go? Simmons seems to be under the delusion that this holiday is going to be repeated in 354 days."

Ward glared at her, and she laughed.

"Simmons' count, not mine. And please tell me you're not still upset that you guessed the wrong Secret Santa." She winked at Coulson, and then turned back to Ward. "Hey, if you want to hide this, I wouldn't tell." She held out the box towards him.

Ward shook his head, backing down the hallway. "I, for one, am not going to get on the bad side of either of those two. I'd just like to live the next 364 days in peace." He turned into the briefing room, humming. Coulson and Skye looked at each other a moment before bursting into laughter.

"You heard it too?" Coulson shook his head.

"Yep. That was definitely a little bit of "White Christmas" à la Bing Crosby." Skye had a mischievous glint in her eye. "Huh. Never pegged him for the sentimental type…"

"Don't tease him about it too much, Skye." Coulson had turned on his father-of-all-you-children voice. "I like a good Bing Crosby song myself. You can put the box in one of the cabinets at the back of the cargo hold. Plaster lots of "hazardous material" stickers on it, just in case our scientists start to get antsy in the middle of July."

"Got it, boss." Skye turned to walk towards the hold. "Good thing we have a few weeks before it's Valentine's Day, right?" If she hadn't been holding onto a box, she probably would have pantomimed Cupid slinging an arrow down the hallway.

Valentine's Day. Coulson sighed. Hopefully there wouldn't be a fuss about _that _particular holiday. Otherwise things would get awfully cozy on the Bus. Not that they weren't cozy already. He walked towards the cockpit and saw Fitz and Simmons taking ornaments down from the tree in the lounge.

Those two were what Tony Stark would refer to as a "hot mess", Coulson thought to himself. Steve Rodgers would say something akin to "a match made in heaven", and the two would probably make even Bruce Banner's heart go soft, what with their science-babble and obvious mutual adoration. But Coulson wasn't about to go talking to Director Fury about the personal lives of his team. Not unless absolutely necessary, and maybe not even then.

"We Three Kings" was playing over the intercom. He had to stifle a laugh as he entered the cockpit. Those kids were even spot on with the change in religious festivals.

"So, Melinda? What is the worst part of no longer having our schedule dictated by Advent calendars and Santa Claus?" Coulson asked as he sat down in the co-pilot seat.

Melinda May gave him a half-_are-you-kidding-me_, half-serious look. "Phil, if I hear one more thing about Christmas, presents, carols, or Santa Claus before December 23rd, I will have to reconsider my agreement to fly your beloved plane. Now, can you please take a look at these coordinates and make sure we'll reach the target at the right time?"

In the lounge, the tree was being divested rather quickly, though it was hard to notice any real organization amid the piles of tinsel, lights, and ornaments.

"Fitz, do you know where the box is for this one?" Simmons asked, holding up a small green ornament. "I can't find it anywhere." There were boxes strewn all over the floor and she couldn't tell if there were actually less ornaments on the tree compared to when they started.

Fitz reached for a box near the end of the couch and passed it to her. "It's the pickle. Be careful." He was sorting the tiniest ornaments, separating the Swedish straw stars and snowflake woodcarvings from Germany into different piles.

"Why your family plays that silly game, I don't know." Simmons started wrapping glass globes in bubble wrap. "You're not German, and it isn't even a German tradition, anyway. I don't know where people get that idea. There's an even more ridiculous story that it came from someone being saved by a pickle during the American Civil War. But, honestly. It was just a marketing technique started by American stores at the turn of the 20th century to encourage shoppers to purchase newly imported ornaments from Germany."

She looked up to see that Fitz had paused in his categorizing. He was staring at her with a slightly hurt expression on his face. Simmons bit her lip.

"Oh, Fitz."

"Is this you getting back at me for teasing you about American movies? Because that's not very kind of you." His voice was a little rough, as though he was trying to make a joke but failing. He turned away, no longer meeting her eyes, and started putting the stacks of ornaments into larger boxes.

She put down the globes she was wrapping and reached over to touch his arm. "Leo."

He still wouldn't look at her, but he set down the ornaments he was holding and sighed. She knew that if he _did _look at her, the expression on his face would be that of a little boy who had asked for a puppy but didn't get one. She knew that look, and it nearly killed her every time. Mostly because it reminded her of the one time when she almost _was_ killed. And he had been stuck on the other side of a wall of glass.

She tugged at his sleeve. "Leo, please look at me." He was wearing plaid flannel today, and it was soft under her fingers.

When he felt her hand on his arm he couldn't help but turn. Jemma always had that effect on him. It was as though he was an electron of an atom, constantly pulled towards her positive energy. He felt his frustration begin to soften, and as he turned he was struck by the concern that he saw in her eyes.

"Jemma, I'm…"

"Leo, I…"

Their words ran over each other. Fitz closed his eyes and took a breath. Jemma began spinning an ornament on its side, catching it before it fell over. Once, twice, three spins before Fitz reached out to stop her. Her hand stilled beneath his.

"Jemma, it's alright." His voice was quiet. He was avoiding looking at her again.

"No, Leo. No, it's not alright." She tried to pull her hand out from under his, but he wouldn't let go. "I'm being an idiot, and you're always so lovely, and I really just wish that I didn't always say exactly what I was thinking, but when I'm around you I get even more flustered than I already am. So then I start going on about pointless facts in an attempt to calm myself down, and sometimes I forget that you're listening because I'm too busy trying to figure out what I _should _be talking about, when all the while I should probably stop talking and just… stop talking."

She hiccoughed.

Fitz took the opportunity to put his hand over her mouth. "Shh, Jemma. Shh." She hiccoughed again, and his lips quirked up a little bit.

"I'm going to take this moment to validate everything that you've just said," he began. She hiccoughed again and glared at him, but he still had his hand over her mouth.

"Mostly the stop talking part." She was still glaring, so he took his hand off of her mouth and put both hands on her shoulders so that he could keep her facing towards him. She was wearing the necklace he had given her on Christmas morning, an old-fashioned heart locket that was, like her, both delicate and enduring.

"Jemma, I'm just as idiotic as you are, and you know I have a tendency to run at the mouth. I get frustrated too quickly and start thinking about all the reasons why you probably don't even really like me, and how you actually want to go off and be with Ward. Like when you were talking about the pickle."

At this she raised her eyebrows as if she couldn't quite believe what he was saying, and he probably shouldn't be saying all of these things, but words were words and he had always been a little liberal with them. But he needed to finish the thought while it was still there.

"So I'm sorry for my inability to laugh at jokes when they're directed at me, and for the way I get frustrated when I don't know what you're thinking." Her hands were coming up to rest on his arms again, just above his elbows. It wasn't helping his thought process to continue, but he was going to try. "And I'm sorry that… that putting away Christmas ornaments is making me cranky, but I really like Christmas and it's always rather depressing for me to pack them up."

Now her hands were coming up to rest on each side of his face, because she knew that it was her turn to apologize and she didn't want him to make any sudden moves due to embarrassment. His face was already turning a faint shade of pink. Her hiccoughing had stopped.

"This is exactly what I mean," she whispered. "Leo, you're absolutely lovely and you don't even realize why. There is no reason that I could ever even think of Ward because you're the only one. You're the only one who can calm me down and cheer me up and remind me that I'm not the only one in the world." She was going to start crying if he kept looking at her like that, but she needed to get through it.

"Leo, I'm sorry that I talk without thinking and that you have to figure out what I'm thinking because I don't actually say what I mean. I'm sorry that I made fun of your pickle." She giggled a little, and his smile grew bigger. "And I'm sorry that we won't have another Christmas together for 354 days."

Fitz's hands tightened on her shoulders and pulled her to lean against the couch, careful not to get any ornaments caught between them. She rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Apology accepted?" she asked, closing her eyes as she felt him brush a kiss on her forehead.

"Always," he replied. "I will always forgive you. Will you forgive me?" His hands were running through her hair, gently twisting the strands.

"Yes, Leo. I always will." She smiled. "Are we going to finish the tree today?"

He looked around at the chaos spread out across the floor and closed his eyes. "Probably not today, Jem. Do you think Ward will start punching me?"

She giggled. "If he does, I'll come save you. I'll grab the night-night gun, and it will be fine."

"You're only saying that because you think I'm lovely."

She started to laugh, and he kissed her.

"Only because I think you're lovely."

* * *

_This was not going to be anything more than a way for me to get out all of my FitzSimmons feels, but then reviews happened (thank you!), and alerts happened (thank you again!), and the feels continued. So the one-shot turned into something more - I needed a break from grad school applications anyway... _


End file.
